


Just One More

by Jay_Bird23



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, Mentions of sex (obviously), Original non-gendered character, Tattoo AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-25 12:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Bird23/pseuds/Jay_Bird23
Summary: Very loosely inspired by Little_murmaider's "A Permanent Arrangement."After an argument with Murderface, Skwisgaar ends up getting his first tattoo. Turns out,  with the proper funds, a good imagination, and a great artists, tattoos can become addicting. But he's only going to get one more.Right?In which Skwisgaar makes a friend he doesn't want to bang.





	1. Just the One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Permanent Arrangement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007429) by [little_murmaider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_murmaider/pseuds/little_murmaider). 



> I wasn't expecting to write this, honestly. But the fandom sucked me in faster than I expected. So here we are! 
> 
> Y'all should read "A Permanent Arrangement" if you haven't yet, it's amazing.
> 
> Also, please forgive me if I fuck up the accents a bit. I'll get it sooner or later if I don't have it now.

This definitely isn’t one of his most thought out choices in life, but it’s one that Skwisgaar plans on following through with. His first tattoo. Yes he’s wanted one for a while and yes he’s had more than enough time and money to get one, but he’s never had any real motivation to follow through. Now after one argument with Murderface and a quick search for “brutal tattoo shops,” Skwisgaar finds himself stomping through the doors of Blood, Sweat, and Ink Tattoos with a fire in his eyes. 

“Who’s am your most brutals tattoo artists?” 

All eyes flick to him and a few widen in shock. Of course they would. He’s Skwisgaar Skwigelf of Dethklok. Who wouldn’t be in shock? 

He folds his arms over his chest impatiently. He doesn’t have time for this. Rehearsal is at five, meaning he only has three and a half hours to get this done. “Wells?”

“Oh! Uh.” Given her position behind the counter, Skwisgaar assumes she’s the manager. She glances around the room and peers around the area before holding up a finger and disappearing around the corner down the hall. “RJ! What are you doing!?” 

Skwisgaar doesn’t hear the words of the response, but he does hear a voice. The pitch is too high to be stereotypically masculine, but too low to be stereotypically feminine. The manager speaks again and the same voice responds. He can’t place it, and the person who rounds the corner behind the manager doesn’t do anything to help. Woman’s cut black leather pants, a male’s fit flannel shirt and neutral fit black boots. He doesn’t even attempt to count the various piercings in. . .RJ’s face and ears. 

The one called RJ flashes Skwisgaar a smile as they lock eyes with each other and lifts a hand in greeting. Skwisgaar catches a few bits of black on. . .RJ’s hand and fingers. “Hey. What’s up.”

“I wants a tattoos,” Skwisgaar repeats. “Ares you de most brutals artist?” 

The silver hoops on the left side of. . .RJ’s mouth slide up when. . . RJ smirks and offers a shrug. “I’ve been told my art can be pretty dark,” RJ answers. “What are you looking to get done?”

“De Norse Compass.” 

“Not the darkest thing I’ve done but solid. Where?” 

“Chests.”

“Full piece or just a panel?”

Skwisgaar pauses. “Whats?”

“Particular style?” RJ goes on. “Or is this just an impulsive thing you didn’t really think about? Which is cool too. We’ve all done it.”

It’s not an impulsive decision. Ever since he was introduced to the concept of tattoos, he knew he wanted the Norse Compass as his first if he ever were to get one. Did he do much research into placement? No. Did he do any research about styles? No. Did he do any research at all? No. He just know what he wants. 

“Can yous does it or nots?” he bites so he doesn’t have to admit to anything. “I does not has time for questions.” 

RJ quirks an eyebrow and the smirk doesn’t move. “OK then. Come on back here and let me start sketching.” 

There’s no response as Skwisgaar is allowed behind the counter and follows RJ down the hall. Two doors down and he’s lead into one of the working rooms. There’s a medical looking chair against the back wall surrounded by illustrations of death, the devil, death, and other references to darkness. Most of it looks hand drawn, some looks like it’s was printed off the internet. 

“You can sit,” RJ instructs, motioning to the chair as. . .RJ takes a seat at the desk beside it. There’s a laptop on top and a few open sketchbooks that Skwisgaar peeks at when he passes by. Skulls, blood, snakes and fire. Nothing that seems out of sorts in the room they’re sitting in. “Let me pull something up and you can pick which one you want.” 

“Fines.” 

He watches RJ’s screen as a few key words are typed into the search bar. A few links pop up and RJ reaches over and taps the screen, pulling up the images and moving so Skwisgaar can see better. “Anything striking you at first glance?”

Skwisgaar hums thoughtfully and leans forward, scanning the images in front of him before pointing. “I likes de boarder of dat ones.”

“Great,” RJ says, sliding the chair back and pulling open a drawer with one hand as the other flips the sketchbooks on the counter closed. They’re stacked on top of each other and stowed into the drawer as a red covered sketchbook is set in their place. A pencil is snatched from the few rolling around in the drawer before its nudged shut and the pencil is flying across the paper. RJ only looks up a few times for reference as the outline on the screen translates onto the page. Once about twenty percent is finished, RJ flicks a glance to Skwisgaar. “Anything else?” 

It takes a moment for Skwisgaar to pull his attention from the sketchbook as RJ draws and it takes another glance from RJ for him to realize he’s been too quiet. “Uuuhh,” he ponders aloud. “Can you scrolls de page?”

“Mm-hm.” RJ doesn’t look away from the sketchbook page as the not-drawing hand unplugs the charger from the laptop and hands it to Skwisgaar. “Let me know if you see anything else.” 

Since the Norse Compass is the same throughout the images he scrolls through, he spends a majority of his time watching the outline come to life underneath RJ’s pencil. After ninety percent is finished, Skwisgaar taps RJ’s shoulder with the corner of the laptop. “Nothings new,” he informs. “De compasses is de compasses.” 

“I was talking more color scheme or shape and size,” RJ responds. The pencil is set down and the laptop is retrieved. “Have you decided where the piece is going?” 

“Ons mys chests.” 

“Full chest or just a peck?” 

“Just a pecks.”

“Full peck?”

“Ja.” 

“Great. Take off your shirt so I can size you.” 

“Fines.” His shirt is removed and he glances over at the book again. RJ is already halfway done with the piece. “Yous is a fast artists.” 

RJ smiles and sets the pencil aside again. “You don’t have time for slowness, right?” is the response. “We need to get this done.” Skwisgaar can’t argue with his own words, so he just watches silently as RJ grabs a thinner piece of paper and rolls the chair over. The paper is laid over his chest and RJ frowns slightly. “You’re so thin.” 

Skwisgaar can barely hear the mumbles even though RJ is right here, so he attempts to lean over and hear it better. “Whats?”

A sound of disapproval and RJ is applying more pressure to the paper to push him back. “Sit still,” RJ instructs, reaching turning to reach behind him for a marker. “I need an accurate sze.” 

A deep frown pulls down Skwisgaar’s lips as he watches RJ bites the top off the marker and traces out a size on his chest. “You is de ones thats is mumbling.” 

“That’s cause I’m not trying to talk to you,” RJ says around the marker top, grinning sarcastically as they lock eyes again. “I’m making statements to keep in my own head so I don’t fuck up your tattoo.”

“Wells dens maybe you should has make dat clear.” 

“I did. I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking at your stencil.” 

Damn. That’s right. “Whatsever.”

The stencil paper is removed and RJ turns back to the desk. The stencil is placed over the sketch and the marker is recapped and tossed back on the desk beside the sketchbook. A blue pen is pulled from a revolving pencil cup, the only thing on the desk that looks organized -- by color Skwisgaar notices -- and the cap is once again removed by teeth.    
Once again, Skwisgaar finds himself drawn to watching RJ draw, carefully tracing the nearly finished sketch and filling in the places that aren’t. It doesn’t take long for the trace to get done and it’s left on the book when RJ recaps the pen and rises and snatches a pair of gloves from the box above his head. “Alright, hold still.” A disposable razor is plucked from a jar and set aside as RJ tugs on the latex gloves and moves back to Skwisgaar. “I gotta shave you.”

“Buts I’ms am already hairs-less?” he argues. “Dere’s is no reasons to shaves.”

RJ’s lips press together in an awkward line and another shrug is offered as the razor is retrieved and uncapped. “It’s my job.” 

Skwisgaar sighs and sits back. “Fines.”

A small smile is returned before RJ skims the razor over Skwisgaar’s bare chest. As suspected, nothing comes away before the razor cover is replaced. “Great,” RJ says, turning and tossing the razor into the biohazard bin on the other side of the room. “Hold tight, I gotta set up.” 

“Fines.”   


The next five minutes are hurried, yet very meticulous and all Skwisgaar can do is watch it happen. Medical looking blue sheets are set out on the desk and the stencil is pulled out of the book and set aside. The book itself is shut and dropped back into the drawer Skwisgaar didn’t even see open. A foot moves out and pulls a case from under Skwisgaar’s chair, a case that reminds him of one Pickles may use to store a piece of his drum set, except this one is covered in stickers and illusions to death and bands. Skwisgaar notes at least three Dethklok stickers amongst the fray as RJ unlatches the top and flips it open. A tattoo machine is removed and needled and is being taped when RJ finally looks at him again. “You didn’t want color, did you?”

“Nej.” 

“OK, great.” The taping is paused and RJ frowns thoughtfully. “Did I price you yet?”

“Nej.”

“Cool. Uuuhh. . .” A glance to his chest, then another to the stencil, then back to his chest. “Let’s go three fifty.”

“Fines.” He rises slightly and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. The required amount is removed and extended in RJ’s direction. “Heres.”

“Great. Hold up.” RJ leans over slightly and looks to the door. “Ivy! Come get this pay!”

“Stop shouting through my shop!” the manager shouts back a few seconds before appearing in the doorway. “How much?”

“I’m charging three fifty.”

“Did he tip?” Ivy asks, sliding into the room and accepting the money from Skwisgaar. 

“Unless it’s in the stuff he handed you, no.”

Ivy locks eyes with Skwisgaar and raises an eyebrow. “Did you tip?”

Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow in response. “Ams I supposes to?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’ts knows.”

“Is this your first tattoo?”

“Ja.” 

“Well twenty percent is typical.”

“Does I hands it to yous, too?”

“You can give it directly to RJ if you want.”

Skwisgaar hums and returns his attention to his wallet. “Thanks you.” 

RJ turns from the newly assembled machine and filled ink caps and smiles brightly in her direction. “Thanks Ivy, I got it from here.” 

Ivy nods in reply and disappears back to the front of the shop. Skwisgaar slides a few twenties from his wallet and passes them over, causing RJ to smile while accepting it and dropping it on the desk. “Thanks.” 

“Whatsever.”

An amused snort pushes from RJ’s core as the gloves are removed with a couple pops. “You mind if I take off the flannel? It’s a bit stuffy and I am wearing an undershirt.”

Skwisgaar can’t argue with that. “I don’ts cares.”

“Thanks.” RJ doesn’t bother undoing all the buttons before sliding it off and tossing it aside. “Alright. Sit up. I gotta clean and stencil you.”

Skwisgaar can’t help but stare. The full sleeve of black and gray art and a quarter sleeve of color mesmerize him in a way no fan’s tattoos ever do. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s often too far away to see any, or the fact that every time he does get close enough, tattoos aren’t even in his thoughts. Now that he is close enough and focused solely on tattoos, he can’t help but stare shamelessly. It looks metal as fuck. 

“Yoo-hoo.” RJ’s hand re-gloved hand waves in his face a few times and pulls him from his daze. “You there?”

After another quick glance over the black and white sleeve, Skwisgaar nods and leans back. “Ja,” he says. “Let’s does it.”

RJ smiles and disinfects the area. “Someone’s eager all of a sudden.”

“I don’ts has times to wastes,” he says bitterly. “Let’s-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” RJ interrupts. “Hold still.” The peck is cleaned and the stencil is placed and RJ smiles at how it comes out, balling up the spent paper and tossing that in the same biohazard bin. “Alright then. Settle in. Here we go.” 

At first, it hurts. Burns actually. Skwisgaar feels every hit of the needle and chews the inside of his cheek to hold back his discomfort. But after a few minutes, it dulls and becomes bearable. It’s still not the most comfortable feeling, but it doesn’t burn as much as it did in the start. He tunes it out in favor of looking at RJ’s tattoos. It’s not one cohesive piece like he originally thought, but a collection of pieces that look good together. Crows and skulls and black flowers and other illusions to darkness on the black and white sleeve on the left and a collection of colorful animals and flowers on the right. Both of them, despite one being colorful and cheerful, are metal. 

Skwisgaar finds himself imagining his own arm full like that. 

Two hours later, the last of the blood is wiped away and RJ is grinning proudly. “I gotta say, I’ve never done anything like this before, but it looks fucking great.” 

“I hopes so’s,” Skwisgaar says, finally able to shift and grunting when he does. He’s stiff, his ass is numb, and his chest hurts. “Cans I sees its?”

“Obviously.” A large, black, hand-mirror is pressed into his hand and RJ slides backward in the chair. “I’ll bandage you in a minute after you check it out. Lemme take my machine apart.” 

Skwisgaar hums as he adjusts the mirror to examine the piece. Other than the obvious redness that comes from the tattoo process itself, there’s nothing wrong with the tattoo. In fact, Skwisgaar can’t find anything at all to complain about. It’s perfect. It looks like he can reach onto his chest and pull it off to actually use it. Not realistic, but useable if he could take it off. 

“How’s it look?” RJ asks, taking the mirror back and setting it aside. A light glob of ointment is swiped across the piece and a couple black lined bandages are placed and taped over that. “Is it that bad? Be honest. I need to know so I can fix it if someone else wants one.” Skwisgaar doesn’t say anything as he slides his shirt back on, silently accepting the aftercare paper and nodding along as RJ explains it to him. “You’re making me nervous,” RJ says after the explanation. “Do you really hate it that much? We can talk about laser removal if you do. I won’t get offended.”

Skwisgaar is still silent as he folds the paper and slides it in the same pocket as his wallet. Once it’s secure, he removes his wallet, withdraws four hundred dollars and drops it on the desk with the twenties. “Goods jobs,” he says, his face remaining still as he closes and replaces his wallet. “I would sees you laters.” 

RJ grins brightly as Skwisgaar turns and leaves the room. “Thanks!” 

A noncommittal hum is given as Skwisgaar disappears around the corner. He wasn’t thinking of getting another tattoo when he walked in, but now he finds himself pondering what he would get if he wanted another one. Turns out, he might want another one. 


	2. Maybe One More

Of course everyone jumped down his throat as soon as he walked through the door, but Skwisgaar reminded everyone that he couldn’t remove the bandages until the next day. Well, RJ actually said six hours, which would have been around 11 after rehearsal, but he didn’t care. He wanted to sleep. Tattooing is exhausting. Getting tattooed is exhausting. 

Toki was the most enthusiastic about his tattoo when the bandages came off, clapping happily and chattering on about how cool it was and some other joyous words Skwisgaar tuned out not long after he got started. Murderface was annoyed that no one was this excited when he got his tattoos. Nathan the most chill, but he still complimented it. Same with Pickles. Like RJ had said, it took about two weeks for the image to heal and it still looked great when it finished peeling. 

And now he’s walking back in Blood, Sweat, and Ink ready for another one. “Cans I gets tattooed todays?” 

The manager lady, who’s name escapes Skwisgaar, looks up at him, then glances at the clock. “We’re closing in an hour,” she says. “Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Nej,” he informs sourly. “De bands is going on de tours. I wills be gones for a month.” 

“Well, there are other shops on the road.”

“Buts I needs one now.”

A short man appears in the hallway and RJ slides out behind him, stretching deeply and squinting at Skwisgaar in confusion. “Didn’t I just tattoo you?” 

“Ja,” he says. “And nows I’ms is wanting another.” 

The manager turns to RJ. “I was telling him we’re about to close.”

Skwisgaar narrows his eyes in annoyance. “And I were telling hers I’m is going on da tours and won’t gots a chance to gets another ones for a months!” 

RJ’s eyes dart between the two before a heavy, defeated sigh pushes forward. “I’ll pull it. I got it Ivy.”

Ah, that’s right. Her name is Ivy. 

Even though Skwisgaar can’t see her eyes, he can tell Ivy is shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” RJ says, lips twitching with a nervous smile. One of the lip rings catch in the light, almost attractively Skwisgaar notes lazily. Not that he would fuck RJ. He doesn’t even know if RJ is a girl. It’s weird. “Since he’s a rockstar, I can charge him an obscene amount of money for how last minute it is and still get a good tip.” RJ’s attention moves to Skwisgaar again, eyebrow rising expectantly. “Right?”

Skwisgaar can’t argue since it is so last minute. He just knows he wants a tattoo right now. “Fines.” 

The expectancy turns to relief turns to professional warmth before nodding. “Let me get cleaned up back here and I’ll call you back. Gimme a few minutes.” Back to Ivy. “Can you wait till I price him out before you leave?”

“Of course,” Ivy responds. “I’ll give you the keys then and you can lock up when you leave.”

“Rad.” And they RJ’s down the hall. 

Skwisgaar, not seeing many other options, takes a seat on one of the benches by the door. Since he just got out of rehearsal, he still has his guitar on his back, so he takes it off and starts plucking chords like he always does. He relaxes and lets his eyes close as he waits, fingers flying across the strings as easily as if he were born with a guitar in his hands. He didn’t earn the title of world’s fastest guitarist for nothing. 

It doesn’t feel like he’s waiting for long before RJ pokes around the corner again. “Mr. Skwigelf. I’m ready for you.” 

The strumming stops and Skwisgaar stands, walking over and through the open counter and following RJ back. “Take a seat and lemme know what you want.”

It takes a second for Skwisgaar to get used to the medical smell of the disinfectant RJ used to clean the area, but it happens as soon as he reclaims the chair he was in two weeks ago and sets his guitar beside him. “I am wantings to got de Thor’s hammers ons my left arm.” 

“Black and gray again?” 

“Ja.”

“Any particular style?”

“Realslistic.” 

RJ smiles as the laptop boots up. “You actually looked up styles? Color me impressed.”

Skwisgaar won’t say how he spent hours looking up different styles and images, and may have even bookmarked a few reference pictures for possible future tattoos. However, he doesn’t want to say any of that because he didn’t even plan on getting any tattoos, nonetheless, the second one he’s getting now. “Whatsever.”

RJ snorts in amusement and logs in. “Defensive and angry to the person you’re letting put something permanent on your body. You’re funny.” 

Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You wouldn’ts.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” RJ says, typing with one hand as the other starts flipping to an empty page in the red sketchbook again. “You’re my bread and butter right now. Pick your shit.” 

Like before, Skwisgaar takes the laptop and starts scrolling through images. RJ rolls beside him and flicks taps the eraser of the pencil on the page. “I likes de shapes of dis ones,” he says, pointing to an image and sparking RJ into action. The outline is started and it takes all Skwisgaar has not to watch that instead of looking for his idea. “De details of dis am brutal.”

RJ quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t stop sketching. “Does that mean good or bad.” 

“Goods.”

“Great. Go on.” 

Skwisgaar scrolls a bit more. “De handles is nice on dis ones. But I am thinkings dat I likes dis one better.” 

“Mm-hm.” 

“Dis inscriptionings am cool.”

“So you want the inscription and the detail on the edges of the hammer?”

“Ja.” 

“Wicked.” 

With the decisions made, Skwisgaar allows himself to fully stare at the sketch RJ works on. Skwisgaar is impressed at how briefly RJ looked at the choices and is able to get them all down coherently. The braiding on the handle. The Celtic knots around the edges on the hammer. It feels like he could reach out and brush his fingers across it and feel the age in the metal that’s being drawn out. 

“Yo!” RJ says, swatting Skwisgaar’s hand away. Apparently he wasn’t in as much control of his action as he thought. “Do you not like it or something?” 

“Nej,” Skwisgaar says, his tone wavering in almost embarrassment as he tears his eyes away from the drawing quickly. “It ams just de brutal pictures. Its is so reals.”

RJ’s shock lifts and warmth returns. “You wanted realism. You can’t ask for realism then get surprised when it looks real.”

“Shuts up, yous dildo.” That wasn’t meant to come out. 

What surprises Skwisgaar more than the insult actually slipped out is the fact that RJ laughs at it. “You’re really asking to get a shit tattoo, you know that right?”

“I’ms not meant to be rudes.” 

“So you’re naturally an asshole?”

“I’m is an assholes who is to bees paying you.”

“And that you will, my good man.” 

“We wills see.” 

“I could always ball this up and-”

The tattoo itch stings and he shakes his head. “Nej,” he interrupts quickly. “I’lls just shuts up now.” 

“You don’t have to shut up,” RJ says, reaching over and pulling a stencil page from the desk drawer. “I just thought that’s how our relationship was going to be. You’re an asshole to me. I’m an asshole to you. You get a good tattoo. I get paid well. Life goes on.” 

Skwisgaar shrugs as he watches RJ trace out a stencil. “I can lives with dats.”

Another bright smile from RJ as the stencil is finished. “Laptop.” Skwisgaar places the laptop in the hand RJ extends and it’s set back on the desk. “I should have sized it first,” RJ mumbles, examining the drawing once more before actually looks at Skwisgaar’s arm. “Fuck me in the ass with a screwdriver, it would be less tedious than redrawing.” 

“As lovelys as dat soundeds,” Skwisgaar says. “I cans moved it if-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” RJ says, pulling another stencil from the drawer as the other is balled up and tossed aside. “I got this.” 

It feels like Skwisgaar just has to blink before a smaller translation of the same drawing is already a third of the way done. Watching RJ is like watching himself play guitar. Quick and accurate. Skwisgaar is willing to silently admit to himself that he admires the speed. 

“Nots to bees de picky, but you hasn’t gots me a price.”

“Fuck me,” RJ mumbles, though the focus doesn’t shift from the drawing. “Right.”

“Yous are not good at de businesses of paying.” 

A dream-like smile floats across RJ’s lips as the second third of the drawing appears. “In all honesty, if I didn’t need money, I wouldn’t charge for my work. I’m an artist. I get joy from doing good work and making people happy with my art. You shouldn’t have to charge people for happiness.” 

“Whats a sap,” Skwisgaar says with a sarcastic roll of the eyes. “Everybodies needed monies.” 

“That’s cause -- hold still I gotta shave you -- society made it that way.” RJ snaps a pair of gloves on before plucking a razor from the jar. “And don’t bother with your hairless mole rat shit again, I’m going to shave you again cause I have to.”

“I has de arms hair,” Skwisgaar defends. “I just doesn’t has de chest hairs.”

“Great. Upper arm, right?” 

“Ja.” 

“Wicked.” A quick shave, a thorough disinfect, then the stencil is received. “Hold real still for me.”

“Ja.” The stencil is slowly placed, pressed, and removed, leaving a perfect outline in its place. “And yous still hasn’t gets me de prices.”

“Whoops. Uhh. I’m going to say nine hundred for you being a dick to me and making me sit here for the four hours it’s going to take me to finish this after hours. Plus you better fucking tip. Ivy come cash me out!”

Ivy appears and Skwisgaar pays her as RJ sets up the machine. “Thanks you.” 

“Not a problem,” Ivy says happily. “RJ?” Her hand slides into a pocket and she tosses a set of keys over. “Keep it professional here. No seducing the artist.” 

RJ catches the keys and snorts in amusement before setting the keys aside, right beside the stack of bills Skwisgaar sets on the desk with the ready machine and ink caps. “The artist can’t be seduced.” The gloves are snapped off and balled up as the attention is turned to Skwisgaar. “I make it a point not to sleep with clients anymore. It makes it messy. Especially when they try to get another tattoo at a discount just cause they made me cum.” 

Ivy makes a sound of distress as Skwisgaar smirks at the story. “Don’t talk about your sex life with clients! It’s inappropriate!”

“Do you know who this guy is?” RJ counters, grabbing a fresh set of gloves and tugging them on. “He’s probably had more sex than everyone in this building combined.” 

Skwisgaar shrugs. “Dis am true. I likeds de sex.” 

“See. He’s fine. Now get out so I can get this done.” Ivy offers a quick eye roll before returning to the front of the shop. RJ smiles faintly and picks up the machine again. “Ready, Mr. Famous?”

“I’ms ams ready,” he responds, shifting slightly to make himself comfortable. “Fours hour you says?”

“Mm-hm.” Ink dip. Machine on. RJ leans in. “It takes time to do realism well. Four hours is honestly pushing it, but I want to get it done and go to sleep.” 

“Fairs. Let’s us does dis.”

RJ’s neck pops and another light trace of a smile pulls up the lip piercings. “Good. That’s what I was thinking. Move your hair and let’s get going.” 

About an hour into the tattoo, the hall light shuts off and Ivy calls a good-bye, to which RJ responds with a half-hearted bird call. Another hour goes by and Skwisgaar tilts his head in confusion as he examines RJ’s shoulder more closely. “For someones whos ams a tattoo artists, you gots a lots of bad ones.” 

A fond smile breaks the concentration on RJ’s face as a spot of ink and blood is wiped away. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you let your friends tattoo you.” 

“Yous lets your friend tattoos you?” 

“Mm-hm.” 

“Why?”

Another line is dragged out and Skwisgaar can’t help the hiss that comes when the needle hits a particularly sensitive spot. “My bad,” RJ says quickly. “And to answer your question. . .” A pause for another painfully pulled line. Another hiss. “Sorry.”

“Stop saysing sorries.” 

“Stop sucking your teeth and I will.” 

“Is you normallys dis rude tos your clients?”

“I am when I’m here two hours after closing and I’m only about halfway done.” 

“Fines.”

“Great.” Another painful line. 

“Ams you doings dis on purpose?”

“If I was, it would fuck up your piece.”

Skwisgaar rolls his eyes and leans his head against the back of the chair, his fingers on the other hand tapping out imaginary chords at a rapid pace to keep himself distracted. “Tells me who does your bads tatts.”

“Do you need a break?” 

“Please?”

The machine is shut off and set aside as RJ swipes another spot of blood away. “Sorry This is probably a terrible second tattoo.”

Skwisgaar glances down at the completed work. Even though it’s red and only halfway finished, it looks amazing. “It’s ams a goods tattoo,” he admits. “It just ams sore.” 

“You’re pretty bony,” RJ admits, prodding the skin just below the tattoo. “There’s not a lot of fat to absorb it.” 

“Oh, I’ms is sorries to bees so’s skinny. It ams not my faults.”

“I never said it was,” RJ reminds. “I’m just stating fact. At least you’re not getting a ribs piece. That would be agony.”

Skwisgaar keeps himself from saying that he already has two planned out. If he were to get another one. But he’ll be done after this. 

“Anyway, do you need water or anything? A snack. I think we could have chocolate in the fridge.”

“Waters am fine, please.” 

RJ releases a quick, mock surprised gasp as the gloves pop off and are tossed in the biohazard box. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever asked me something nicely. Are you feeling ok?”

“I’ms is going to kills you.” 

“That’s better.”

Before Skwisgaar has a chance to bite out a response, RJ leaps up, crosses the floor in two bounds, and disappears around the corner. After a few seconds, RJ reappears and passes over a cold bottle of water. They lapse into a comfortable silence as they sip their drinks. 

“Yous still has not tolds me abouts yours tattoos.” 

RJ hums in remembrance and sets the bottle aside to stretch. “Right. My friends tattoo me sometimes.”

“Yes, yous tells me dat. Dey suck ats de drawings.”

“No, I do the stencil,” RJ corrects. “They do the work,”

“Dats sounded stupids,” Skwisgaar sneers, “You ams an artist. Hows cans you lets normals peoples to tattoo you? It looks bad.” 

“Maybe. But I like the memories attached to them.” 

“How sappys.”

“Maybe. But I can’t do anything about them now.” RJ’s bottle is snatched and drained quickly before being tossed away haphazardly. “Wanna wrap up?”

“I supposes,” Skwisgaar replies, taking another swing from his own bottle before capping it and setting between his legs. “Goes ahead.”

RJ nods and tugs on another pair of gloves before doing just that. Luckily all that’s left to do is shade since RJ got all the line work done earlier, and that doesn’t hurt as much as that did. An hour and a half later, RJ swipes the area and shuts off the machine. “There we go. All done.”

Even though it hurts slightly to do so, Skwisgaar lifts his arm up and examines the piece, face inexpressive despite the approving nods he gives. “Wells done,” he says. “Yous does realsilism well.”

“I figured you would have known that when you asked me to do it,” RJ responds, motioning for him to lower his arm as the salve is applied. “My portfolio is on the website.”

“I didn’ts looks at de website,” he admits. “I’s just wanteds a tattoos and dis ams the first ones that comes up in de Googles.”

“So you got lucky?”

“Prettys much.”

RJ blows out a huff and raises two pierced eyebrows in shock. “You know, that’s probably one of the stupidest first tattoo stories I’ve ever heard.” Bandages are cut, applied, and taped and RJ grins. “I’m glad to have been a part of it,”

“Whatsever.” He rises at RJ’s tap and removes his wallet again, dropping a couple more twenties beside the pre-existing stack of bills and grabbing his guitar. “Thanks you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me walk you out.” 

“Fines.” Skwisgaar watches RJ stretch and groan and catches sight of a few tattoos when the bottom edge of the shirt lifts with the action. “How manys tattoos does yous has?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” RJ admits as they make their way to the front. “I stopped counting. I know I still have space I want covered though.” 

“Likes dat?” Skwisgaar answer, motioning to the colorful quarter sleeve. 

“Exactly. I got two more sessions. One at the end of this week and then one a couple weeks after that. You just paid for my second session, actually. Thanks.” 

“You am welcomes.”

RJ smiles and leads the way through the counter opening and then to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open as Skwisgaar steps out. “See you around.”

“Ja,” Skwisgaar says as one of the Klokateers pulls the car around. “I wills bees seeing yous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading and leaving kudos! I appreciate it! This may not be my most popular story, but I enjoy writing it. Yay! 
> 
> Keep it up guys, love you

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of the other stories I have going (and my history exam but It'll get done). I feel like this ones gonna get weird.
> 
> Correction. Something is going to get weird. I know it. I planned it. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you like it so I can keep it rolling. Let's show people that this fandom's not dead! Whoo!
> 
> Also, as I'm writing, I'm noticing that some of the chapters are going to get way longer than others. But hey, that's just how tattoos go.


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